


Mouths

by nakajimagardenar



Series: The One Where You Do Giant Alien Robots [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: BECAUSE HE DOESN'T HAVE A MOUTH ANYMORE, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Drabble Gift, F/M, Fluff, IN WHERE WHIRL HAS AN ORAL KINK, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Oral Fixation, Reader has no defined gender, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakajimagardenar/pseuds/nakajimagardenar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watches. Or, the one where Whirl can't get enough of your mouth. [Gift Drabble]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anima-blue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anima-blue).



> A present for my sweet summer child anima-blue. ( U v U )*

He watches.

He’s always watching, single optic trailed unrepentantly on your mouth, yellow flickering when you part your lips and take in a breath before ducking back down and grazing the sensitive wiring of his pelvic joint with your teeth. The helicopter makes a low, needy sound, air rushing out of his vents and tickling your skin. You respond by biting down harder, swirling your tongue against the warm coppery metal and brushing your bottom lip teasingly against the curve of his thigh - You don’t mind the staring when you’re doing this for him, curled up on the floor of his quarters, nestled between his legs and putting that mouth of yours he loves to look at so much to good use. You trail kisses along his pale blue paint, smiling to yourself when the red on your lips smears and stains his joints, and you look up at him just as you press your fingertips against your lips - You don’t find it particularly seductive, but you’ve learned that it drives the ex-Wrecker absolutely mad when you touch your mouth, when you bite down and swallow and drag your tongue against your teeth.

You beckon him closer with a wave of your hand, curling your fingers in a come hither motion and nodding in approval when he slides down onto his hands - His claws, and his knees, dragging himself closer to your smaller body. He raises his hand and presses the flat of his claw against your cheek, and you turn your head just so until you’re able to trail brief, fleeting kisses against the trembling metal. He’s watching, and he’s barely moving, but that’s fine, this isn’t about you - It’s about him, and making sure he gets to watch as much as he wants. You trail the edge of your tongue against the sharp curve of the Autobot’s claw, slow and deliberate in your movements, and you peer up at him from under half drooped lids and smile languidly, taking the tip into your mouth, between your teeth. You don’t fail to catch the hiss that escapes him, or the way his shoulders droop and his wing kibble flex up and outwards when you coil your tongue around the edge of his claw, nipping and sucking and making a show out of pulling away from him to trail another round of kisses against the juncture of his pinchers.

“F-Fuck - ”

Eloquent as always, wasn’t he? You pull yourself closer to him still, your knees bumping against the edge of his wrist mounted turbines when you shift your weight and scoot over to perch precariously (and a little uncomfortably, but that was okay, you could handle a little inconvenience if it meant making Whirl happy) on the swivel of his wrist, and this time you don’t have to motion for him to move. He settles you down on the generous swell of his cockpit, and you can’t help but flash your teeth and lick your lips when you drag your fingers against the smooth tempered glass (his optic flashes, and you’re amazed all over again with how expressive he can be despite not having an actual face). He’s watching you (of course he is), and even with his frame and armor and living metal between you two, you swear you can feel the heat of his spark thrumming under your hands - Or maybe, his frame was just that hot. You lean forward, arching your back and raising your backside until you could kiss the glass of his chassis, eyes shuttering close as you press kiss after kiss after more kisses on every inch of his chest you could reach, faint red and lip shaped imprints marring him. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, too wrapped up with watching you, and under his unblinking gaze you move over until you can reach out and take hold of one of his turrets.

You slide your hand along the length of the barrel, pausing to neatly rearrange yourself into a better position (while taking care not to block his view) so you can replace wandering fingers with your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the edge of the barrel, sliding it inside and sucking noisily, and the small, wet noises you’re making are drowned out by the sudden rush of his internal fans kicking into full gear. You purr into your ministrations, nipping metal with your teeth and arching into his touch when he starts petting you, rubbing the blunt of his claw against the back of your head (encouragement?). “Keep - Yeah, keep doing that, but - ” He pauses, and he shivers, static dripping out of his vocalizers loud enough to make you wince. He catches himself, rubbing at the back of his head, “Yeah, but look here. Look at me.” His request is predictable but no less endearing to you, and you offer him a small smile, carefully making your way over to his face and reaching up to place your hands against the base of his pedipalps. You look up at him for a second before you turn your attentions back to his mandibles, pressing your lips against the base and working your way up to the tip, kissing the blunt edge once over before taking it into your mouth.

The ex-Wrecker whines, a long and high pitched sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you smile against him suck, trailing your tongue along the slight grooves of his pedipalps and biting down hard enough to chip paint. He was watching you - He was always watching you, and that was just fine.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You put that talented little mouth of yours to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of afterthought, really. Aso, an excuse for smut. ;-)))

He watches.

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, not anymore. After all, he makes no effort to hide his staring, even before all this. So you smile, baring your teeth in that way you know gets his engines running and his rotors spinning, and you duck down between his legs when he starts to rub the flat of his claw against the top of your head. You press your hands palm down against the rapidly heating metal of his interface covers, and you can’t help but feel vindictively smug when they part open for you, his spike pressurizing with an audible, almost comical rush, and you reward his enthusiasm with a kiss on the head of his interface.

The helicopter makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl, and he’s shifting around on his aft on the ground trying to move his legs further apart, peering over the imposing swell of his chest to catch a glimpse of your mouth. His spike twitches and your only regret is not being able to take the whole thing into your mouth (impossible, that thing was almost half your size) - So you resign yourself to peppering feather light kisses against the grooves of his interface’s biolights, a strobing shade of blue and indigo that light up the room with an intensity that matches that of the single yellow optic baring down on you, and you move in closer to dig your fingers into the pliant metal.

Whirl shifts, pushing his hips forward and almost knocking you back when his spike bumps against your stomach, but you take it all in stride and reply by biting down the gentle curve of the shaft, dull teeth meeting metal and dragging along as far down as you can go, till you’re on your hands and knees and nipping at every inch of him you can reach. You sooth your tongue over the trail your teeth have left behind, pausing now and again to kiss him tenderly, working back up and pulling away to circle around his legs and climb onto his thigh. It’s a bit of a chore to reach the head of his interface without asking him to pick you up, but it’s an adventure in itself when you get there, and you open your mouth and take in as much of him as you can, sucking and lapping up the clear, bitter-ish transfluid that begins to dribble down his spike.

The taste isn’t really something you think you’ll ever get used to, but it isn’t terrible, and you’re really doing this for Whirl’s enjoyment more than anything else, so you don’t complain. You don’t have to look up to know he’s watching you, not when his spike twitches against you, and one of his claws starts to rub encouragingly, almost desperately, against the small of your back. Not that you mind, and you continue to suck and nip and drag your lips against his head - You pull back just as his overload overtakes him, and you narrowly avoid taking a shot of it to your face, watching in rapt fascination as his transfluid dribbles down his spike, pooling between his legs and smearing across his thighs, his stomach.

It’s a terribly pretty shade of purple that looks almost like that ritzy galaxy alcohol you’ve seen online, and you make a small show out of scooping some off his leg with your hand, sticking your fingers inside your mouth and sucking them off noisily, swallowing thickly and opening your mouth to give him a clear view of your empty mouth.

He whines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me and send me drabble prompts (Transformers or Undertale) over at http://muffetsofficial.tumblr.com/ !!

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me and send me drabble prompts (Transformers or Undertale) over at http://muffetsofficial.tumblr.com/ !!


End file.
